George Weasley, A Brother Abandoned
by isaacswolfsbane
Summary: George can't help but feel like Fred abandoned him when he died. (warning for lots of mentions of canon character death, rated T for mild language)


**QLFC Round 5 – What's in a Name?  
** _Cannons, Beater One (reserve):_ Petunia (as inspired by Petunia Dursley) – Write about a character holding anger and resentment towards someone they love.

 **AN:** Warning for canon character death (you don't see it, but it's mentioned a lot)  
Thanks so much to Shay and Mags for betaing for me :3

* * *

 **George Weasley, A Brother Abandoned**

 _2nd May 1998_

"Crucio!"

"Stupefy!"

"Impedimenta!"

George heard the screams of spells being fired from everywhere around him as he raced through the castle. He clutched his wand tightly in his hand, firing curses at anyone wearing a black hood as he ran as fast as he could.

There was an explosion higher up in the castle followed by a series of screams that mingled with those from the fights nearby. George hoped nobody on his side had been hurt, but he didn't have time to think about them—there was a war to win.

Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but he couldn't work out what. All he knew was that he had to get to Fred. Whatever it was that was making George feel like the world was crashing down around him, whatever it was that was making George feel like nothing was right anymore, would be made easier with his twin by his side.

He tore up the nearest staircase, taking them two at a time. At each floor, George listened out for fights, rushing to each one in case Fred was part of it. He never was. Eventually, he reached the site of the explosion—he knew it was the place from the hole in the wall through which giant spiders were crawling.

 _It's a good job Ron isn't here,_ George thought to himself with a chuckle.

There were too many for George to fight on his own. Instead, he wheeled around and retreated as quietly as possible, hoping not to attract their attention. In his haste, he missed the splatter of blood covering the fallen section of wall and the stray wand abandoned by its deceased owner.

The sinking feeling returned. Fred was nowhere to be seen. The only place George hadn't checked was the Room of Requirement, but he had no way to get there as the only path was currently overrun by acromantula.

He battling a Death Eater on the third floor when Lord Voldemort's voice filled his head and the ceasefire began.

" _You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."_

 _Dead._

The word kept repeating itself in George's mind as he fired one last spell at the Death Eater that refused to stop fighting even though he was commanded to.

 _Dead._

It was all he could think as he raced through the castle to the bottom floor.

 _Dead._

It was all he could do to keep running and not sink to the floor in defeat.

 _Dead._

There was a weight to that word that chilled George to his core.

 _Dead._

There was something deep inside him that feared the very worst and knew it to be true.

 _Dead._

George took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him in the Great Hall. He tried to shake the word from his head, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the room, Ginny ran to him, arms flying around his waist and tears pouring down her face, and he knew.

Fred Weasley, George's twin brother and best friend in the whole world, was dead.

* * *

 _9th May 1998_

The Ministry had been quick and efficient in arranging funerals after the commencement of the Battle of Hogwarts. They realised the families of the dead would want to lay their fallen kin to rest as soon as they could, and that they wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to do it themselves—especially those that had lost several people during the final battle. Owls were sent out the following day with a date, time, and location for every witch and wizard that had fallen. Fred's was set for eleven o'clock on the morning of the ninth of May.

"Thank you," George muttered to Hermione and Harry as they helped him get ready that morning.

Hermione rooted around in his wardrobe, pulling out the most garish, brightly-coloured set of robes George owned ("He wouldn't want us all to be wearing black and looking miserable," George had said, prompting Hermione to alter her own black dress so it became bright red and Harry's robes to become a fluorescent green). Harry helped him through to the bathroom where he prompted George to shower and shave so he looked presentable.

Since Fred's death, George had been in an almost trance-like state. He stayed locked away in his room at the Burrow, not even venturing out for meals, staring at the bed that used to be Fred's. He rarely slept, for when he did, his dreams were filled with images of Fred dying in various situations—he had, of course, been told what had happened by Harry and Hermione (Ron was still too upset to speak about it), but as he hadn't seen it himself, his mind produced horrifying scenes that George did not wish to see ever again. He hadn't even washed since it happened, flecks of dried blood were still matted into his hair.

The journey to the graveyard was done by car; Ministry officials arranged transport and security for the family that had been at the forefront of the action. There was nobody in the Wizarding World that did not know how much the Weasleys had achieved, and as the procession of cars made their way from the Burrow, the streets were lined with witches and wizards throwing flowers and shouting their condolences.

When they reached the graveyard, there were photographers and reporters filling the surrounding area, clamouring to get to the family for an interview. Thankfully, the Ministry had foreseen this happening and a charm had been cast that did not let anyone working for the media cross into the actual site.

The chapel they funeral was being held in was beautiful; high ceilings, beams, stained glass windows… it was everything somebody could wish for, and all George could think was, _Fred wouldn't want this._

As the funeral started, George stared blankly at the casket, willing his twin to jump out and tell them it had all been a prank, that he was alive and well.

It didn't happen.

The funeral progressed as it should, friends and family giving speeches. George had been asked if he wanted to speak, but how could he? What could he say about Fred? He didn't have the words necessary to explain how much his twin had meant to him, and how much it hurt that he had been left alone. George could never forgive himself for not being there as Fred died, but a small part of him was furious that Fred hadn't tried harder to get back to him.

Who was Fred to leave George alone during the Battle?

Who was Fred to spend his last moments with _Percy_ of all people?

Who was Fred to not give George that last goodbye he so desperately needed?

Who was Fred to take every ounce of happiness from George's life and leave with it?

He loved Fred, loved him as much humanly possible, but that didn't stop George from letting anger flare up inside him. It didn't stop him from throwing the first handful of dirt into Fred's coffin with such force that it made his family flinch. And it didn't stop him vowing never to return to Fred's grave until he got the apology from Fred that he felt he deserved.

* * *

 _2nd May 1999_

"No," George said, stone-faced as he lowered himself into his recliner.

"George, it's the one-year anniversary of Fred's death. You have to come," Ginny said, her voice full of desperation.

"No," he repeated.

"But—"

"Ginny, I'm not going. Just leave it," he snapped.

Ginny's face fell, and George immediately regretted being so harsh with her. He knew that Ginny only wanted to help, that she wanted the whole family to be together, but how could the whole family be together when Fred had deserted them?

He sat back in his chair and Ginny glared at him. Eventually, she marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Truthfully, the reason George couldn't go was because he didn't want to see his family. He didn't want to see the sympathetic looks he received from everybody he knew. The only person George needed to see right now was Fred, and the traitor had deserted him a year ago.

Then he thought about Fred. He thought about what Fred's reaction would be to his behaviour and sighed—Fred would insist he went, that he be there to support their mother. Fred had always been the more empathetic one.

George stood, shrugged on a coat, and walked out of the door, hoping to catch Ginny before she left Diagon Alley.

The Burrow was a sombre place. Everywhere he looked, people were staring down into their drinks to avoid eye contact with the person they were speaking in hushed tones to. George hated it. He hated how quiet the Burrow had been for the last year. He'd stopped coming after Christmas Day had been spent in almost silence, especially after his mother had burst into tears upon realising she'd knitted Fred a jumper that he'd never wear.

 _It's all his fault,_ George thought, kicking the ground as he made his way over to the table full of drinks. He poured himself a Firewhiskey, downed it, and then poured himself another.

Everywhere he looked, he saw mournful faces, and he kept expecting Fred to pop out from behind one of them to crack a joke. He'd been doing that a lot over the last year, and he was left disappointed every time. Fred had never disappointed George before, until he died. Since then it had been one disappointment after another.

He tipped his head back and poured his drink down his throat.

 _I shouldn't be here,_ George thought. _He doesn't deserve it._

He slammed his empty glass down on the table and marched to the fireplace.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," he said as he threw the shimmering powder into the fire.

"George, wait," a voice said behind him.

He didn't. George stepped into the flames and felt the familiar whirling sensation as he waited for the fire to spit him out in his own home.

* * *

 _2nd May 2000_

"There's no way I'm going back, Ron," George told him. "Not after last year."

"What was wrong with last year?" Ron asked seeming genuinely confused.

"The looks everyone was giving me, like I was going to break at any moment. And everyone was so miserable. He wouldn't have wanted that, he would have wanted everyone to be lively."

"It's a sad day, mate. Fred wasn't the only one that was lost."

"He wasn't lost," George snapped. "He left. He died and left me on my own."

"You're not alone," Hermione piped up. She'd been quiet since she and Ron arrived, George assumed it was because she was too scared to say something that would upset him. "You have your family, you have us."

George let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, like any of you compare."

 _How could they?_ George thought. _How could anybody replace him?_

George had lost his best friend, his twin, the person he trusted most in the world. Fred was better than anyone he'd ever met. He gave George unrealistic standards that nobody could ever live up to. How could George trust anybody again after the one person he trusted more than anyone in the world left him stranded in a life that he didn't know how to navigate?

"George, please—" Hermione started, but Ron cut her off.

"Don't bother, Hermione," he said darkly. "You're not going to change his mind."

George watched as the pair left, thankful that he didn't have to deal with them anymore. In the two years since Fred had died, George's family had been unable to leave him alone. They came by unannounced almost daily wanting to make sure he was okay. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a day to himself.

"It's all your fault," he muttered, glaring at a picture of himself and Fred.

Without thinking, he crossed the room to where the picture stood on a shelf and threw it to the floor.

"How dare you leave me here like this!" He kicked the frame across the floor as he yelled.

He sank to the floor, tremors running through his body as he forced the tears back that threatened to spill from his eyes.

 _He doesn't deserve my tears,_ he thought, his face twisting into a scowl as he did.

When George was able to stand, he conjured a box and proceeded to throw every picture of Fred into it, desperate to rid his flat of his brother's face. Once it was full, he levitated the box onto the top of his wardrobe and hid it behind stacks of failed experiments that had been shoved out of the way.

He instantly felt better, relieved that Fred no longer had a hold over the flat. He didn't deserve to be remembered above a place of joy, not when he had caused so much pain.

* * *

 _2nd May 2001_

George paced his room above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as he tried to decide what to do. His family had stopped visiting, finding the home of George Weasley too miserable to set foot in, so he knew they wouldn't be coming by to persuade him. Realistically, he knew that it wasn't Fred's fault he died. He knew that one day he'd have to visit the grave and forgive his twin. But that wouldn't be today.

He settled down onto the sofa, book in hand. He'd decided to take the day to rest and spend some time looking after himself. That didn't happen, however. Thoughts of Fred kept drifting through his mind and he cursed every time they did. His twin (for that's what he thought of him as now, unable to even think his name) couldn't even leave him alone for one day. All he asked for was one day, but apparently that was too much.

Sighing, he put down his book and went to make himself a cup of tea instead.

 _Remember when you laced Ginny's tea with the puking pastille serum? He couldn't stop laughing for over an hour._

"Fuck off," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to try and get the thought to leave.

 _Remember when he convinced Mum that a gnome had got into the house and broke all the plates after you accidentally set a firework off in the cupboard?_

"Get lost," he said, shaking his head once more determined that it would work this time.

 _Remember when he—_

"Remember when he died and left me on my own?" he roared at himself. "Remember when he ran off into battle without me? Remember when he spent years mocking Percy for deserting the family and then _did it himself_?"

George made a fist and punched the wall, hoping to ease some of the tension that was desperate to leave his body.

"Remember how you promised to never leave me?" George's voice came out as a whisper as he thought back to the promise they had made in fourth-year.

 _George looked down at Hermione's body, frozen in the same position as she was when she was carried into the Hospital Wing._

" _I don't know how Harry and Ron are managing to cope without her. She's their best friend," Fred said, looking mournfully at Hermione._

" _Promise you won't leave me like that," George said, staring straight at Fred._

" _Never," Fred said looking surprised. "I'll be by your side through everything."_

George punched the wall again, the pain in his hand forcing the memory from his mind.

Fred had broken his promise to George. That wasn't something he could ever forgive. That wasn't something he ever wanted to forgive. And that meant George would not be spending the day mourning the loss of his twin.

* * *

 _2nd May 2002_

"I loved him too, you know," Angelina said, lacing her fingers through his.

"It wasn't the same," George grunted.

"I know, but you need to forgive him. He doesn't deserve to be treated like this. Why are you so angry at him?"

"Because he left me," he mumbled, saying the words out loud to someone else for the first time. "He promised to always be by my side and he left. How could he do that?"

"It wasn't his choice, George. You have to know he wouldn't have wanted this."

"You don't know that!" he shouted, suddenly finding his voice. "Maybe he planned this all along. Maybe he hated being my twin. Maybe he wanted nothing more than to do something on his own for a change—it wouldn't be the first time. Maybe he thought we were going to lose and didn't want to see what the future held!"

"And maybe," Angelina said, her voice soft, "he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved you, George. When we were together he wouldn't shut up about the brilliant ideas you'd come up with. He was so proud of you."

George closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'll go," he whispered, clutching her hand tightly as he allowed himself to cry over his brother for the first time in four years. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face his entire family, but he knew it was time to forgive his twin. To forgive Fred.

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 **Word Count:** 2,890.

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 **AN:** I apologise to anyone who had their heart broken by this. Trust me when I say I hated writing it. I had to listen to the part of Deathly Hallows where Fred dies and it made me cry, so it's not just you I'm torturing here.

I'm actually so pleased with this to say it was written late at night, so I hope you enjoyed it :)

* * *

 **This is for:**

 _ **The FRIENDS Competition;  
**_ _S5 TOW Joey's Bag – Write about a funeral._


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